


Nightingale

by winterwaters



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Meetings, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-15 17:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: Write Arya and Gendry's first meeting from both perspectives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arya

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SapphireBlueJiyuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireBlueJiyuu/gifts).



> Oh man. This turned into something completely different and unexpected. I hope you like it!
> 
> Also, this modern verse is not related in any way to the moderns in my other works.

Arya wanted a night out. No worries, no obligations, and certainly no family. She wanted to feel free and alive and blissfully ignorant of the world, just for a few hours. To get lost amongst the hundreds of people coming and going from their daily lives, pretending she was as normal as the rest of them.

So she lined her eyes with black, curving the end to make the cat-eye she always saw on Sansa, put on one of her few dressy shirts, and borrowed Sansa’s wedges. She left a note for her sister, grabbing only her keys and clutch, and left their apartment. 

Walking down the busy streets, she didn’t miss the second glances thrown her way, smirking at the idiots who only noticed her when she dressed like this. 

A small pub caught her eye and she crossed the street before stalling in front of the door. Normally, she wouldn’t have gone in. But Arya didn’t want to be herself tonight. She wanted to be daring and carefree, so she grabbed the door handle without another thought and slipped inside.

Taking a look at the crowd, she decided it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. Then she noticed the small set in the corner and realized why there was a crowd: there was a band playing tonight. Arya slipped into a seat at the bar, passing her ID over automatically. Her height always threw people off.

When the bartender passed it back, she asked for her favorite – whiskey sour. Turning, she settled back against the bar, watching the band get ready. As she took a few sips of her drink, she relaxed further.

Then a blonde boy sat next to her and Arya cringed, hoping he wouldn’t try to make inane conversation. Her hopes were dashed when he asked what she was drinking, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“Whiskey sour,” she answered blandly.

“Wow. Strong drink for a small lady.”

“I’m not a lady,” Arya snapped. The idiot didn’t seem to notice, or he chose not to, instead smirking and leaning in further.

She grimaced and kept watching the band, hoping they would hurry up and play to drown out any chance of further conversation. The boy blathered on about his drink of choice as Arya’s temper continued to rise.

Her drink emptied quicker than she’d have liked, and she turned to ask for another, sharing an eyeroll with the bartender as the boy intervened, offering to pay. She waved him off and bought herself the drink. She would be in debt to no one. 

A headache was coming on as he continued to ask questions, and Arya was about to slap some sense into him when a large hand clamped down on his shoulder. 

“Hey mate, mind giving my girlfriend some room to breathe?” A deep voice asked, and Arya looked up to see amused blue eyes.

The boy glanced at her, wide-eyed, and Arya merely raised an eyebrow. He stuttered out an apology and slunk off as the stranger gave her a half-smile. She returned it, raising her glass in thanks.

“Mind if I take this seat?” He asked. “I promise not to hit on you.”

She gestured to it gratefully. “All yours.”

He gave her that half-smile again (that very attractive half-smile) and sat, asking for a jack and coke. Simple but effective, she mused.

Arya turned back to the band, but watched her new companion out of the corner of her eye. He was tall, enviably so, with black hair and bright blue eyes. She could see where his broad build would have been intimidating, but thought it was only so when he chose it to be. Otherwise he seemed more of a gentle giant, as Bran would say. 

There was no doubt he was strong, though. His muscles stretched under his shirt as he leaned back in his chair, and Arya averted her eyes, taking another sip of her whiskey.

The band finally started, and to her surprise, they weren’t half bad. She nodded along, wincing only a few times when the lead singer tried to hit a note he should have left alone. When they stopped for a break, she turned back to the bar, surprised to find those blue eyes on her again.

“Can I help you?” 

He smirked and put his glass down. “What’d you think?”

“Of the band? They’re better than I expected.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Do you know them?”

He laughed, low and warm. “No. I was genuinely curious what you thought.” 

“Oh.” At least he was honest.

“Did _you_ like them?”

“They’re not bad. Though the bassist came in a bit late at the end there.”

“I’m not sure what key that one was in for a moment.” She nodded towards the leader, and he grinned.

“Right? Way to ruin the moment.”

“Seriously.” Arya grinned back, surprised to find she was enjoying herself.

“Thanks for earlier,” she murmured quietly.

He nodded, the amusement back on his face. “Of course. Though no offense, but I did it more to save that little guy than for you.”

Arya let out a surprised laugh at his boldness. “Smart decision, either way.”

“He needed the help, clearly.”

“That he did. Someone’s got to teach him how to read the signs.”

“Especially the massive ‘fuck-off’ on your forehead,” he grinned as he took a sip, raising his eyebrows over his glass and daring her to refute him.

“Well thank goodness _you_ can read,” Arya replied dryly, and this time it was he who laughed. She got the impression he didn’t laugh much unless it was earned, and the thought stupidly pleased her. 

Then the pub door opened and a group of burly men entered. One had a nasty scar on half his face, though that wasn’t what worried Arya. No, what concerned her was the small prick behind him, and the nauseatingly excited grin on his face.

_Of all the fucking clubs in all of London…_

She groaned and turned her back. Her companion noticed and inched his chair over ever so slightly.

“Problem?”

“Possibly.”

“Want to get out of here?”

She glanced at him, trying to gauge his intentions. “Why are you offering?”

“Because I’m not sure we need a barfight.” His mouth twitched. “And because it’d be a turn on all the same.” 

With anybody else, Arya would have glared daggers, if not thrown her own small knife. But now, she felt her body react to his words, the hair standing up on her arms as his eyes roamed over her briefly.

Downing the rest of her drink, she replied, “You’ve convinced me,” and jumped off the seat, heading for the door. His body was warm and solid at her back as he followed her out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night had cooled considerably since she entered the pub, and Arya sighed contentedly as the breeze hit her. The sun was slowly setting, casting the last of its dim light over the river, and Arya headed towards it.

He strolled next to her easily, taking only one stride where she took nearly three. He didn’t seem the least bit bothered by her leading the way, and it was refreshing. When they reached the long boardwalk stretched out next to the river, she paused and took off her shoes, letting out a sigh as her toes were freed.

“My sister’s,” she said with a shrug, and he grinned. They continued on slowly, unhurried, eventually taking one of the smaller paths down to the river bank. It had become darker now, and Arya stepped carefully along the bank, trying to avoid any weird items that could stick her unsuspecting bare feet.

He grasped her elbow wordlessly, guiding her over a few areas and then letting go. Her skin was warm where his hand had been.

She sat quietly on the ground after a while, and he dropped into place next to her. Feeling her eyes itch, she slowly rubbed off her makeup, feeling her skin become raw yet free without the stuff caked on her face.

Then Arya turned, studying him, and he looked back, steadily meeting her gaze. Another first, she thought absently. Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was the way he’d followed her when he’d had no reason to. Maybe it was his blue eyes. Or maybe she was tired of being herself for a time.

“Did you mean what you said back there?” At his blank stare, she added, “That you find me attractive.”

His smile was a slow burn. “Yes.”

“Good,” she said, and pressed her lips to his.

He nearly pulled back, but her arms were around his neck, drawing him closer, and moments later she felt him give in with a groan, his own hands clutching at her waist. Her tongue snuck into his mouth, tangling with his. The taste of him mingled with the whiskey he’d been drinking, and she kissed him harder.

When she climbed into his lap, he pulled away, breathing heavily. She tried to follow, but he grasped her shoulders, keeping her in place.

“I’m not about to … I can’t just …” he stopped and took a breath. “I don’t do this type of thing.”

Arya looked away briefly. “Neither do I.” She trailed her eyes up to meet his wearily. “But I just want to forget myself right now … to be someone different.”

His face opened in surprise, and she was more curious than ever as understanding flashed across his face. “I can relate,” came his soft reply.

She nodded, leaning into kiss him again, but his strong arms held her back once more.

“I don’t even know your name,” he protested.

“Isn’t it better that way?” She waited as he searched her eyes for any trick. Then his gaze dropped back to her lips, and she knew she’d won. 

“Why me?” He asked, and there was open curiosity in his voice.

“I’m not sure,” Arya admitted.

“Okay,” he said softly. This time when she moved, he drew her in further, and their lips met again heatedly.

Now his tongue pushed into her mouth, tasting her languidly, and she sighed. His hands trailed up and down her back, making her squirm, and her mind vaguely registered that his lap felt quite different. She scraped her nails along the back of his neck, making him release her lips with a soft moan. His own mouth continued across her jaw and down her neck, and she gripped his short hair, drawing in a ragged breath as he sucked at her pulse point.

When she couldn’t take it anymore, Arya pushed him back, and he watched her with dark, heavy-lidded eyes. She claimed his lips again before kissing along his own jaw, smiling against his skin when she felt his fingers dig into her waist. Her hands roamed everywhere, tracing over his (quite impressive) muscles and broad shoulders until he yanked her head back up to his.

They kissed for what seemed could have been minutes or hours; Arya had no real sense of time in those moments. All she registered was his hands in her hair, against her hips, and his mouth warm on hers. And it was exactly what she needed.

When he finally broke away from her, they’d moved so he was overtop her on the ground. Her body felt the loss of his warmth instantly, and she bit her lip to keep from whimpering. Instead, she sat up, brushing the grass off her, suddenly shy as she came back to her senses.

A hand on her elbow made her turn towards him, and Arya smiled when she saw his ears were red. It was comforting to know he was just as affected. 

“So that was new.” His voice was teasing, but kind. 

“Yes it was.”

“Still don’t want to know my name?”

Arya shook her head, even though it was a lie.

“Still want to know mine?”

“Absolutely,” he grinned, and her face became even warmer. 

“Idiot,” she muttered, and his body shook as he laughed next to her.

He walked her home despite her protests, and she grinned at the thought that she of all people might have found a gentleman. Then her mind wandered back to the night’s events, and she decided part of him was decidedly not gentle, and she liked him better that way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she awoke the next morning, the sunlight was streaming in brightly past her curtains. Arya clutched her pillow and rolled over, trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep. Then Sansa’s voice echoed from the hall, reminding her they were visiting Jon today, and she jumped out of bed excitedly, her sleep forgotten.

She was dressed and downstairs in record time, vaguely answering Sansa’s questions about her night in between bites of cereal. What had happened, happened. She’d have the warm memories for herself, and now that she’d had her taste of freedom, she could move on.

When they got to Jon’s, she bounded out of the car, hearing Sansa laugh behind her. Jon swung open the door as she reached the top of the steps, sweeping her up in a hug. Arya hugged him back fiercely, laughing as Ghost bounded up next to him.

As Jon went to greet Sansa, Arya noticed the other car in the driveway and glanced at him curiously.

“Is someone else here?”

Jon followed her gaze, and his face brightened. “Oh yeah, you know my friend from uni? He just moved nearby, I thought we could show him around.” His voice faded as he disappeared inside the house. “I’ll go grab him.”

Ghost butted against her leg, and Arya squatted to greet him happily. Hearing voices behind her, she straightened and turned, finding herself face to face with familiar blue eyes. She felt her mouth open in surprise as her not-so-gentleman stared back, his handsome face frozen in shock.

Jon, ever oblivious, continued to make the introductions. “And these are my sisters,” he finished.

Sansa threw a curious look at Arya before she held out her hand. “Hello. I’m Sansa.”

He snapped out of his first, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you,” he managed, and his low, all-too-familiar voice sent a jolt through her.

Then his gaze returned to Arya, warm and nervous and wondering all at once. She stuck out a tentative hand, feeling her skin tingle as he grasped it.

“I’m Arya.” Her voice came out smaller than she’d expected.

“Hello Arya,” he said quietly, and now his bright blue eyes were full of mischief. “I’m Gendry.”


	2. Gendry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn't forget about this! Here's Gendry's POV. Hope you enjoy :))

Gendry wasn’t sure what possessed him to go out that night. Maybe it was the lure of London. Maybe he just wanted to get lost among all the people, be another blip under the city lights. Maybe he wanted a fresh start.

Jon had offered to have him over, but Gendry had waved him off, not wanting him to break plans with Ygritte. God only knew that wasn’t worth it, and plus Gendry wasn’t sure he’d be great company. Silly as it was, he missed home, and hoped yet again that this new job would prove its worth, since he’d moved all the way out here for it.

So he grabbed only his home keys and wallet and headed out the door. His old, reliable car could get some rest today. He wanted to walk, to properly get inside the city.

At first, the night was refreshing, and strolling among others was as calming as he’d hoped. But then he made the mistake of turning onto another street, this one packed to the brim with people milling about. His broad form did not help matters, and he found himself squeezing past people with repeated mutters of “excuse me” and “sorry.” 

Gendry pulled open the door to the first pub he saw, praying it wouldn’t be as packed as the street. To his relief, he saw that although there was a crowd, it was quite manageable. His eyes flitted over the band that was setting up, before landing on the bar in the hopes of finding a seat.

That was when he saw her. She was sitting at the edge of the counter, her long chestnut hair falling in waves down the back of her blue shirt. She was doing her best not to lean away from the blonde boy who was obliviously chatting away next to her. Gendry felt his mouth twitch despite himself as he saw the grimace on her face. The bloke was clearly not getting the message. 

Normally, he wouldn’t have bothered. She seemed like a girl who could handle herself. But then, he reasoned, tonight wasn’t a normal night, or he wouldn’t even be here.

So he made his way over to them carefully, lingering as if deciding whether to stand or sit and trying to catch their conversation. The girl had picked up a second drink as the boy went on, her expression changing from bored to exasperated. As her irritation grew, Gendry decided it might be in everyone’s best interest to get the fool away from her.

Purposely settling his hand heavily on the other boy’s shoulder, he looked down at them in amusement. The girl’s grey-eyed gaze met his with surprise, but otherwise no apprehension.

“Hey mate, mind giving my girlfriend some room to breathe?” He asked, and bit back a grin as the younger boy’s eyes grew wide.

When he looked to the girl for confirmation, she only arched an eyebrow in reply, and he stammered out an apology before fleeing.

Gendry gave her a half-smile, more than pleased when she returned it with a raise of her glass.

“Mind if I take this seat?” He asked, adding, “I promise not to hit on you.”

She gestured to it gratefully. “All yours.”

He sat, ordering his usual jack and coke and keeping his eyes downcast. The last thing he needed was for her to think he was checking her out immediately after promising not to.

The band started as he got his drink, and he swiveled in his seat, seeing her do the same. Though he started watching the band, his gaze inevitably drifted to her as she nodded along to the music. She was a tiny little thing, but clearly capable. She practically radiated defiance, though he doubted she knew it. Her fierce demeanor somehow didn’t match her tight (and distracting) clothes, and Gendry wondered what her face looked like without all the makeup.

As the first set ended, she turned in her seat again. This time, he didn’t bother hiding his look, and her grey eyes studied him curiously.

“Can I help you?” Her voice was sharp.

Gendry couldn’t help his smirk as he put his glass down. “What’d you think?”

“Of the band? They’re better than I expected.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Do you know them?”

He laughed, realizing what she was thinking. “No,” he replied honestly. “I was genuinely curious what you thought.”

“Oh.” Her mouth opened and closed for a moment, as if she was surprised by his openness. Then she asked, “Did _you_ like them?”

Gendry was stupidly happy that she wanted to know.

“They’re not bad,” he mused. “Though the bassist came in a bit late at the end there.”

“I’m not sure what key that one was in for a moment.” She nodded towards the leader, and he grinned.

“Right? Way to ruin the moment.”

“Seriously.” She grinned back genuinely, and he was struck by how unguarded her face was in that moment. She was lovely.

“Thanks for earlier,” came her quiet murmur, and he couldn’t help it when his eyebrows raised briefly. Somehow she didn’t strike him as one to dole out thanks very often.

But he only nodded, trying not to grin. “Of course. Though no offense, but I did it more to save that little guy than for you.”

She let out a surprised laugh. “Smart decision, either way.”

“He needed the help, clearly.”

“That he did,” she agreed with more than a little annoyance. “Someone’s got to teach him how to read the signs.”

“Especially the massive ‘fuck-off’ on your forehead.” Gendry grinned, taking a sip of his drink to cover up his own surprise at how freely the words had escaped him.

Her eyebrows flew up, but she replied dryly, “Well thank goodness _you_ can read,” and it was his turn to laugh. It felt good.

Then the pub door opened and a group of burly men entered. But Gendry was paying them no attention, more curious about the effect they seemed to have on his companion. Her face clouded and she groaned, turning her back. Helplessly, Gendry inched his chair over to hers.

“Problem?”

“Possibly,” came her quiet reply.

He didn’t hesitate. “Want to get out of here?”

She looked at him warily, and he didn’t blame her. Even _he_ wasn’t entirely sure why he had proposed it. 

“Why are you offering?” Her voice held only open curiosity, so he decided to reply in kind. He got the impression that she appreciated honesty, however blunt it may be.

“Because I’m not sure we need a barfight.” His mouth twitched, hoping she wouldn’t give him a swift kick to the balls for his next words. “And because it’d be a turn on all the same.”

Gendry let his gaze fall from her face, roaming over the rest of her briefly to let her know he wasn’t japing.

She downed the rest of her drink before replying, “You’ve convinced me,” and hopping off her stool. Surprised, happy, and gods help him, turned on, Gendry scrambled to follow her out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night had cooled considerably since he entered, but the breeze felt good after the warmth of the crowded pub. Hearing her sigh in contentment next to him, Gendry figured she felt similarly. He had no idea where she wanted to go, but he knew he would most likely follow. So it was second-nature to let her take the lead as they walked in comfortable silence. Amused, he noted how each step of his was matched by nearly three of hers.

They reached the river as the last of the sun’s rays were spreading over the bank. At the boardwalk, she stopped abruptly, reaching down to remove her heeled shoes and letting out sigh of relief as she wriggled her toes freely.

Seeing his look, she shrugged. “My sister’s,” was her only explanation, and he grinned widely. That explained a lot.

As they continued down the bank, she began to step more carefully, trying to avoid things that could stick her bare feet. It was pure instinct that made Gendry grasp her elbow, carefully guiding her past a few rocky areas before reluctantly letting go.

When she sat down on the grass, he dropped into place next to her, watching as she slowly but precisely rubbed off the makeup on her face. She blinked a few times, seeming lighter without it, and Gendry couldn’t help but stare.

When she turned to him, he steadily met her gaze. Her expression showed brief surprise yet again before she masked it, and he wondered why. She seemed to have an internal debate as her grey eyes searched his face.

“Did you mean what you said back there?” She asked suddenly. When he looked at her blankly, she amended, “That you find me attractive.”

Gendry didn’t bother to hide his feelings, allowing her to see exactly how he felt. “Yes.”

“Good,” she said, and pressed her lips to his.

He nearly pulled back in surprise, only to have her arms wind around his neck and draw him closer instead. With a groan, he gave in, his hands clutching at her waist while their lips collided over and over. Her tongue snuck into his mouth, immediately tangling with his, and he thought he might be going insane when he tasted the citrus from her drink.

It was only when she climbed into his lap that he managed to pull away, breathing heavily. When she tried to follow to reclaim his mouth, he held her back by her shoulders.

“I’m not about to … I can’t just …” The words wouldn’t form, and Gendry stopped and took a breath. “I don’t do this type of thing.”

She looked away briefly, almost shy, and he wondered again what both of them were doing there. “Neither do I.” She trailed her eyes up to meet his wearily. “But I just want to forget myself right now … to be someone different.”

Gendry looked at her in surprise, feeling the understanding dawn on his face. “I can relate,” he replied softly, and though her gaze was curious, she only nodded.

When she leaned in to kiss him again, he held her back once more, trying not to grin at her pout.

“I don’t even know your name,” he protested.

“Isn’t it better that way?” She waited as he searched her eyes for any trick. He only found a burning excitement, and his gaze dropped back to her lips. But he had one last question. 

“Why me?” Gendry wasn’t really expecting an answer, but he just wanted to see how honest she would be.

She chewed her bottom lip hesitantly. “I’m not sure,” she admitted, and he could see it was the truth.

“Okay,” he said softly.

This time when she moved, he drew her in further, and their lips met again heatedly. Now his tongue pushed into her mouth, exploring languidly as she sighed. His hands trailed up and down her back, making her squirm and press against him. She was soft and warm and eager in his arms, and it made his head swim. The scrape of her nails along the back of his neck drew a soft moan from him, making him release her lips. Wanting more, Gendry continued kissing across her jaw and down her neck, and she gripped his short hair, drawing in a ragged breath as he sucked at her pulse point. Her skin tasted sweet and salty all at once, and his clouded mind vaguely registered the scent of honey and peaches as he continued to taste her.

Then he was being pushed back on the ground, her flushed face hovering over him. She claimed his lips again roughly before kissing along his own jaw, and he couldn’t help it when his fingers dug into her waist. The curve of her lips against his skin told him she was pleased. Her small hands were everywhere, tracing over every plane of his body in a curious but teasing manner. When Gendry couldn’t take it any longer, he wound his hands in her hair and yanked her head back up to his.

They kissed for what seemed could have been minutes or hours; Gendry had no real sense of time in those moments. All he registered her hands tugging at his hair, clutching at his shoulders, and her lips fiercely on his. And it was exactly what he needed.

Eventually, he made himself pull away from her, albeit very reluctantly. They’d since moved so that he was overtop her, and he eased away to give her space. Lying on the ground, he caught his breath as she sat up, brushing off her own clothes. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Gendry was endeared by her sudden shyness.

When he touched her elbow gently, she finally turned to look at him. A small smile formed on her face as she took in his equally tussled state.

“So that was new.” He kept his voice light and teasing, not wanting her to clam up now.

“Yes it was,” she agreed softly.

“Still don’t want to know my name?”

She shook her head, though he hoped against hope she was lying.

“Still want to know mine?”

“Absolutely,” he grinned, enjoying the blush creeping through her cheeks.

“Idiot,” she muttered, and his body shook as he laughed next to her.

Gendry walked her home despite her protests. There was no way he was letting her walk back alone at this hour, no matter how fierce she was. He grinned when they awkwardly stood outside her door for an extra few minutes, neither wanting the other to leave but unwilling to say so. Then she raised a hand in farewell, her face bright red as she slipped inside the door, and Gendry found himself smiling the whole way home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His phone woke him far too early the next morning, and he groaned in answer. Jon’s chipper voice sounded on the end, telling him to get a move on and be at his place in an hour. Apparently, he was seeing London today whether he liked it or not.

He showered and dressed, grabbing a quick cup of coffee before heading out. Today, his car would be getting a workout. Arriving at Jon’s, he was greeted by Ghost as he walked in the door. His friend had apparently felt so bad for leaving him alone the previous night that he decided to drag him along with his sisters on their outing, giving him an impromptu tour of the city. When Jon asked how his night was, Gendry was saved from answering by a car door, and suddenly Jon had disappeared onto the front steps.

Hearing the sounds of laughter and easy conversation, Gendry hung back with Ghost for a moment longer. Then the hound rushed out to meet the newcomers also, and Gendry sighed. Before long, Jon was striding back in, grasping him by the shirt collar and pulling him outside.

Gendry saw her before she saw him. Her long hair was in a messy braid, the strands already escaping to wave around her face as she knelt to greet Ghost. 

_No way._

He barely registered what Jon was saying as the girl stood up and turned, her familiar grey eyes meeting his. Her mouth dropped in surprise as she stared up at him, the expressions on her face coming and going so quickly he could barely keep track. 

Jon, ever oblivious, continued to make the introductions. “And these are my sisters,” he finished.

Only when someone else held a hand out to him did Gendry snap out of it, shaking his head. The red-headed girl smiled, though he didn’t miss her curious glance. “Hello. I’m Sansa.”

Right. The one whose shoes had been borrowed. “Nice to meet you,” he managed.

Then his gaze returned to her younger sister, whose face still registered shock and embarrassment. But the flush on her cheeks was telling him that she was feeling much more than that. 

She stuck a hand out tentatively, and he felt his own skin practically spark when he grasped it.

“I’m Arya,” she said quietly, and the name spread through him like the best drink he’d ever had.

“Hello Arya,” he replied, suddenly feeling quiet cheeky. “I’m Gendry.”


End file.
